


I Put a Spell on You

by MorganOfTheFey



Series: OTP: Coat-Coat, Murder [9]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Drug Use, Fluff, Jealousy, Other, Slow Burn, Snowball Fight, agender!sole survivor, angsty babies who both think the other doesn't like them, but now he's trying to get clean, they/them pronouns used to refer to my SS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-11 01:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5609101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganOfTheFey/pseuds/MorganOfTheFey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fallout 4 song fic prompt for the song "I Put a Spell on You" by Creedence Clearwater Revival, given to me by thegaminggene on tumblr!</p><p>Scout initiates a snowball fight, Hancock tries to get clean for Christmas, and Magnolia kisses him under the mistletoe. Fahrenheit and Daisy are meddling shippers and lock Scout and Hancock in his office until they work their shit out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Very Tense Negotiation

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place about a week or so after Going, Going ... Gone wrapped up. I really suggest you read that first before this one, because there are lots of references back to those events and what happened still plays a major part in the plot of this fic. The plot will be a bit slow however, since I really, really wanted to have some fluff before we got into the angst. Also, snowball fights are really cute. Unless Fahrenheit becomes involved. Then they are Competitive and Scary.

Hancock popped his last Mentat as he stepped into Goodneighbor. No need to ration them now. There'd been an issue with a group of Super Mutants making a camp a bit too close by and harassing—eating—some of the good folk coming in and out of his city. He'd personally went out to attend to the matter just so everyone knew he was back on his feet again after his “bender.” Scout had to go back up to Sanctuary to manage stuff there, but Nick had a possible lead for them about Shaun, and they'd promised to stop by Goodneighbor to meet up with him and get supplies before heading out. Hancock didn't spot them hanging out with Daisy or kicking back on one of the benches out front though. He rolled the 'tat beneath his tongue and sucked on it. Didn't mean anything. Scout could handle themself out in the Commonwealth, and it might just be that they were already in the Old State House.

“Yeah, let's just stand out in the cold like morons,” Fahrenheit said. “That'd be great.”

“Ah fuck off,” Hancock replied without any heat. “It's good to be—”

Movement blurred out of his peripheral and then Fahrenheit shoved him behind her. She fired off a shot and there was a metallic crack, all before Hancock could turn and see what the threat was.

“This is a snowball.”

Scout's voice. Scout. Shit.

“But nice reflexes,” they continued. “You should follow up on that promise to give her a raise, Mister Mayor.”

Hancock stepped out in front of his bodyguard to see Scout standing in profile with a new dent in their combat arm brace. They must have turned sideways to take the bullet as soon as Fahrenheit raised her gun. Hancock turned back around to glare at her.

“Did you really just shoot Scout?” he demanded.

In the arm—arm brace, the bullet had ricocheted off somewhere—but still. Something thumped into his back, and he whipped back around. At this rate, he was going to get whiplash. And a goddamn heart attack. Scout gave him a somewhat sheepish look, snow still clinging to their gloves.

“To be entirely fair,” they said. “that totally could have been a grenade. Next time I want to ambush you with a snowball fight, I'll clear it with her first.”

Hancock gave a long suffering sigh. “Fucking hell, Scout. You all right? Lemme look at ya.”

He strolled over to his friend, who obligingly held out their arm to him. So trusting. Hancock grabbed their arm and pushed them, but Scout figured out what was happening midway through and latched onto the lapels of his coat so that they both went down into the snowdrift against the wall between Goodneighbor and the rest of Boston. Hancock landed on his side and heard Scout let out an oof as they fell next to him.

“Ugh, I can't believe I fell for that,” they groaned. “I hate y—”

They broke off with a high-pitched yelp as he grabbed a fist of snow and tried to rub it in their face. Scout retaliated by shoving snow down the back of his coat, which quickly soaked through his shirt. Hancock gritted his teeth against a shout of surprise and play-wrestled with Scout, managing to push them down onto their back. He got one leg swung over them right before he was tackled hard in the side and knocked back into the snowdrift. A long tongue licked all over his face, Dogmeat's weight on his chest keeping him pinned down as the dog seemed to aim her tongue directly for his nose hole.

“No, Fahrenheit, help!” he shouted, trying to shove the enthusiastic licker off of him.

“Good girl!” Scout got to their feet and laughed at him. “Do you surrender?”

Hancock turned his head to the side to get away from the tongue and gazed pleadingly at his uninterested bodyguard. “Fahr, why?”

Fahrenheit sprawled out on a nearby bench to watch her boss being viciously attacked. “I think I do deserve a raise.”

“You hear that?” Scout leaned against a lamppost with a grin. “The woman deserves a raise.”

Even Dogmeat stopped licking him long enough to woof in agreement.

Hancock raised his arms in surrender. “Suggestion. How 'bout we go back to my office, get warmed up, and talk this out.”

Fahrenheit didn't look impressed with that offer. “Scout, what was that snow thing called?”

Scout's smiled brightened. “A snowball. You just pack some snow into a circle in between your hands.”

Fahrenheit scooped some snow off the seat of the bench. Hancock lifted his hands just a little bit higher—and got Dogmeat by the shoulders to flip the canine off of him. He scrambled to his feet and dashed for cover, catching the lamppost with one hand to swing himself around behind Scout, trying to use them as a shield. They laughed and shoved at him while he danced around to keep his friend between him and Fahrenheit. Scout let him grab their upper arms then suddenly went limp, dropping all of their weight onto him. Hancock staggered down to his knees, while Scout easily slipped out of his grip and pushed back up to their feet. Without his friend's cover, Fahrenheit pegged him right in the chest. Hancock gathered up his own fistful of snow with a growl while Fahrenheit hurried to make another snowball herself. Before she could finish, one hit her smack in the shaved side of her head. Hancock stopped and watched as she slowly turned, and Scout's eyes widened in fear of what they had just unleashed upon themself.

It was a free-for-all after that, the three of them throwing snowballs and pushing each other into drifts as Dogmeat ran around barking in excitement. A crowd of amused onlookers quickly formed, and Kleo set to work making a stock of snowballs, available for easy use at two caps each. Daisy leaned against the doorway to her store with a smile. It had been so long since the last time it felt like Christmas. At some point, Scout and Fahrenheit made an unspoken alliance and began working together to hit Hancock with snowballs. The good citizens gathered to watch laughed and cheered on the two.

“Do you surrender?” Scout asked again.

“Give an old ghoul time to get his breath back,” Hancock replied, covered in snow and bent over with his hands on his knees.

Scout snorted and didn't drop the snowball they held threateningly. “Give your loyal bodyguard a Christmas raise.”

Hancock straightened back up with an indignant expression. “Hey, I'll have you know that I am a very generous boss.”

Fahrenheit raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Hancock grinned. “I gift you with my presence every year.”

Scout, Fahrenheit, and the crowd all booed at him and Kleo set out more snowballs.

“These are free, just for that,” she announced.

Everyone picked up a snowball and pelted Hancock with them.

“Hey, hey!” he shouted.

Fahrenheit stopped and gave a piercing whistle that cut through the laughter of the crowd. A bit of fun was nice, but Hancock was still the mayor and the citizens of Goodneighbor would damn well listen when he wanted to speak.

“How about a free round for everyone on me at the Third Rail,” he suggested.

The crowd cheered and several people shouted thanks as they headed off to the bar immediately. With the masses appeased, Hancock turned to Fahrenheit next. He really did mean to give her a raise, and after she handled the “my boss thinks he's gone feral” situation, she sure as hell deserved it. But he'd just gotten back into performing his mayoral duties after nearly a week of being completely fucked up from that whole debacle, and he hadn't even looked at his books. The last thing he wanted to do was promise her a number he couldn't pony up, so he aimed low to start.

“And you get a ten percent raise,” he said.

“Twenty-five,” she retorted immediately.

Hancock pressed his hand to his chest in mock pain. “Breaking my fucking heart, Fahr.”

Fahrenheit didn't even blink. “Thirty.”

“Fifteen, and you get to keep all the shit from the next raider den we clear out,” Hancock said.

“Including the chems?” Scout asked.

He looked over at them with a frown. “Whose side are you on?”

Scout shrugged with an innocent expression. “Just asking.”

Fahrenheit nodded. “And the chems.”

“And the chems,” Hancock relented with a long sigh. “Gonna suck me dry.”

“Maybe next Christmas,” Scout said. “All I got you this year was a cap.”

Hancock paused in the act of lighting up a cigarette, his thoughts stuttering over what sounded damn close to an innuendo and the knowledge that Scout had actually gotten him a Christmas present. No one did that shit anymore, but of course Scout would. That's what people did pre-war. Hancock started absently patting his pockets like a gift for his friend might magically appear in one of them. Pity they didn't like Jet, because he plenty of that he needed to get rid of now.

“You didn't have to get me nothing,” he said. “I uh, I didn't—”

“That's fine.” Scout waved off his concern and bounced over to him, dusting the snow off his coat. “You let me pelt you with snowballs. That was fun.”

Hancock stood still as Scout's hands smoothed over his shoulders and then his chest. “Yeah.”

Fahrenheit made eye contact with him over Scout's shoulder, her expression knowing and smug. Daisy looked downright delighted, and he knew he was in for another round of teasing about his crush after this. Hancock moved his eyes back to Scout and refused to look at either one of his other friends.

“Take off your hat.” Scout dug through the fanny pack on their belt and pulled out a small knit cap. “I made you this because I thought your head might get cold. Here.”

They reached up and put the cap on his head, tugging it down over his forehead and earholes. Hancock kept his eyes straight ahead, but he could hear Fahrenheit and Daisy whispering to each other. Fuck those two. His head did get cold without any hair—he fucking missed his hair—and Scout was a great friend for thinking of that. 

Because that's all they were. A friend … who sometimes kissed him and said I love you.


	2. Shank a Dick with a Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas presents are handed out to the good citizens of Goodneighbor, and Scout asks Hancock out on a date!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I love Kleo and the present she gets is actually a real thing I saw on tumblr once and no longer have the link to. But I'm sure you'll get some interesting results if you google search for it!

“There,” Scout said, stepping back to admire how the cap fit on Hancock. “Still rocking the sexy pirate look, but now much more practical.”

“Scout,” Kleo called. “Your canine is sniffing me again.

Scout turned away from Hancock and jogged over to pull Dogmeat away from the small business owner. “Sorry. She likes your voice. I do too. Both sultry and murderous.”

“Thank you,” Kleo said. “I like your business.”

“I got you something too,” Scout told her. “Hold on a second. Daisy, could you babysit Dog for just a second.”

“Sure thing, sweetie,” Daisy said. “C'mere, girl.”

Dogmeat eagerly obeyed, trotting over for a petting session while Scout retrieved their pack from inside Daisy's store. Scout could certainly hold their own, but it didn't hurt to deter thieves that no one dared to mess around in Daisy's shop either, and everyone certainly got the message that you didn't fuck with a friend of Hancock. For Kleo, Scout pulled out a small ceramic dildo and handed it over to the puzzled robot.

“I have no need of this,” Kleo said.

“It opens up right here.” Scout showed Kleo how the dildo separated at the ballsack, revealing a small knife that was normally hidden inside the shaft. “So if anyone gives you crap, you can shank a dick with a dick.”

Kleo's red eye considered the knife-dildo more carefully. “I take it back. This is a lovely little weapon. I'll think of you whenever I kill people with it.”

Fahrenheit came over and admired the knife-dildo too. “Think you can get that replicated in titanium?”

“I know a human who makes blades. I could likely special order a piece similar to this from them,” Kleo replied. “For the right price.”

Fahrenheit nodded. “I just got a raise, so I'll buy.”

“I got something for you too, Fahr,” Scout said, taking a pair of steel-toed boots that took up most of the room in their pack.

Fahrenheit took the boots and looked them over. “These do something special too?”

“Yep!” Scout cheerfully answered. “Click your heels together to hit a button that'll pop a knife out of the toes.”

Fahrenheit knocked the heels together and a short blade slid out of the toe of each boot. Kleo made a deeply approving humming noise, and Daisy stopped petting Dogmeat to come over and get a look too.

“I can't wait to kick someone in the dick with these,” Fahrenheit said.

Scout sighed wistfully. “I hope I'm around to see it.”

Kleo nodded. “Yes. I'll give you a discount on that weapon import if you let me examine the mechanism in those for reproduction.”

“You start selling those, and I'll order a pair,” Daisy said.

Hancock drew their attention by clearing his throat. “Do I need to be worried here?”

“Yes,” the three women and Scout replied unanimously.

“Christ,” Hancock muttered, taking another drag off his cigarette. “Fucking women … and feminine people.”

Scout snorted. “You just barely saved that.”

“I'm still not convinced he did,” Daisy said.

Fahrenheit tilted her head to the side. “You got something you want to say about women?”

Kleo just whirred threateningly and twirled the knife-dildo around.

“Yeah,” Hancock said. “You scare the shit out of me.”

That appeased the women and Scout, who suddenly gasped and turned to Daisy.

“I can't believe I almost forgot,” they said. “This isn't a weapon or anything, but I searched around a little and found something for you.” Scout took a book out of their pack and handed it over to Daisy. “Since you wanted me to return the second book to the library, I figured you might need the third, and I just so happened to find it at the Old Corner Book—”

Daisy cut Scout off with a hug, smooshing the book between the two of them. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. After a long moment, she pulled back and accepted the book, blinking hard against some dust that had gotten in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she rasped. “I've been waiting over two hundred years to find out how this stupid trilogy ends. But here I am without anything for you.”

Scout smiled and shook their head. “No, you don't have to worry about that.”

“I got it, Daisy,” Hancock said, swaggering over and throwing an arm around Scout, dropping his cigarette in the snow so the smell didn't bother them. “You deserve Christmas shit too. Whaddya want?”

“I don't—”

“C'mon,” he cajoled. “I'm the mayor here. I can get you whatever you want, gorgeous.”

Scout leaned closer to bury their laughter into the shoulder of his coat. “Oh my god,” they gasped when they came back up for air. “Please tell me you don't actually use lines like that.” Their eyes widened and they looked over at Fahrenheit. “Fahr, tell me they don't work!”

She shrugged. “More often then he deserves.”

Scout's mouth dropped open in disbelief. “He sounds like the intro to a bad porno. John Hancock, mayor of Goodneighbor and good times!”

“The only man I'm interested in is my Fat Man,” Kleo announced. “I'm going to go polish it now so I don't have to listen to this.”

Scout didn't seem to be offended by that at all. “Bye, Kleo. Merry Christmas!”

“So,” Hancock drawled in their ear as the robot left. “Have you been dreaming of a white Christmas?”

Scout nearly collapsed against him in a fit of giggles. “Y-you're the worst. You … oh my god. Daisy, reprimand him.”

“If scolding worked on that boy, he would've asked you out a long time ago,” Daisy said with a grin. “You two have a Merry Christmas.”

She beat a quick retreat before Hancock could glare another hole in her face. He wasn't asking out anyone. He just offered to take Scout anywhere they wanted and pay for it, that's all. But instead of teasing him or making some sort of polite, oh no we're not friends like ~that~ remark, Scout turned to him with a wide smile.

“That's a great idea,” they said.

Hancock blinked back at them. “It is? I uh … I thought you wanted to set out to see Nick.”

Scout's bright mood dimmed, melting down to something much more serious. “He's just checking something out right now. There's actually not any reason for me to go see him until he gets something—if he gets something—and he told me to stop hovering and enjoy Christmas with you.”

“If you want to stick around and celebrate, that's what we'll do,” Hancock told them. “If there's one thing Goodneighbor is good at, it's throwing a party.”

“Yeah.” Scout stepped a little closer, turning fully into his embrace. “I just need something to keep me busy. Stay positive. If Nick's lead pulls through, and I find—I want Shaun to meet happy, trying-to-be-a-better-person Scout, not murderous, feed-a-man-his-own-leg Scout.”

Hancock nodded and squeezed their shoulders in support. Scout looked up at him, snow clinging to their lashes.

“Did I ever tell you thank you for that?” they asked softly.

Hancock could only shake his head no.

“I don't regret doing it,” they continued, “and I enjoyed every second of it. But you were right. That wasn't a path I should've started down again, especially if I might find Shaun soon. So thank you, for trying to keep me good.”

“Any time,” Hancock murmured.

Scout took a deep breath, deliberately changing their attitude into a more cheerful one. “So. Since you're already paying for drinks at the Third Rail, why don't you take me out too? I want to make sure karaoke never dies.”

A loud laugh came from inside Daisy's shop, revealing that she was still shamelessly eavesdropping. Fahrenheit didn't know what karaoke was, but she didn't have to eavesdrop at all. Hancock forgot about how much of his personal life she actually saw, leaning silently against a wall until she just blended into the background. Her attitude of complete indifference, mixed with a tinge of boredom, helped her fade away quickly.

“Sure thing, gorgeous,” Hancock said, more aware than ever that he still had his arms around Scout like they really were lovers. “Anything you want.”

That turned out to be a promise he shouldn't have made, as Scout's eyes lit up with a genuine blend of mirth and mischief.

“Let me wear your coat for the night,” they said.

“You'd take the coat right off my back?” Hancock asked in mock indignation.

Scout laughed. “Shut up, you've literally tried to burn it for me before. I just want it for the night because I'm going to wear that sparkly red dress, and it's—”

Hancock immediately stepped back and began struggling out of his coat. He'd seen glimpses of that glorified scrap of fabric before and if it meant getting to see Scout actually wear it, he'd burn his coat in the town square and toss his hat in too. Hell, he'd swan dive onto the pyre himself. Not like it'd make any difference with his face.

“—too cold to wear without a coat,” Scout finished, smirking as they watched Hancock fumble with the buttons. “You know I don't actually need it until tonight? How about you escort me back to the House so I can get cleaned up first.”

Hancock stopped fighting his coat and held out his arm for Scout to take instead. “Sounds good, sunshine. Say, did I ever give you a tour.”

Scout smiled and linked their arm through his. “Nope. I killed three warehouses full of people for you, briefly got into roleplay, and broke into your strongroom, but no tour.”

“Did I mention I have a running shower with hot water?”

“Oh, seduce me more, Mister Mayor.”


	3. A Backup Coat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hancock is v nervous preparing for his and Scout's absolutely-not-a-date and Fahrenheit gives him a pep talk the way only she can.

“That's a nice tux,” Fahrenheit said with a sly grin, leaning against the doorway to Hancock's bedroom.

“Eat my ass, it's Christmas,” Hancock replied without looking away from the mirror.

She grinned wider. “Also a big date night.”

“Not a date.”

“No? You let just anyone wear your coat then?”

“Shut up.”

“And get dressed up for them?”

“Fuck off, Fahr.”

“And take them out and offer to pay and—”

“I'm not in the fucking mood for this shit,” Hancock growled.

Fahrenheit went silent, and he closed his eyes and breathed in deep. He hadn't taken a hit of Jet since he'd attacked Danse in the workshop, and he'd weaned himself off the Med-X too. Wouldn't be caught dead with Psycho after anything that happened either, and Buffout was also just a little too close for comfort. The one thing he hadn't quit was the Mentats, ironically. The little tablets sabotaged and reformed with cocaine was what had fucked him up so badly, so if he was going to try to quit any chem, Hancock knew it should be them. But he just might eat his shotgun if he had to give up his 'tats on top of everything else.

“You need another one?” Fahrenheit asked after a moment.

She checked and approved all his tins of Mentats now and kept an eye on how many he took too. She'd been doubtful when he asked her to help him get clean, but she couldn't argue that being drugged into thinking he'd gone feral wasn't a damn good reason for wanting to kick the chems.

Hancock sighed. “Yeah.”

Being sober wasn't as bad as being feral, but it was close. And after doing so many chems for so long, one Mentat was like giving a man dying of thirst one drop of water. He didn't want to be irritable and snappish at Scout tonight though, especially not on their da—

It wasn't a date.

Fahrenheit tossed him a new tin and watched as he took out a single 'tat. Hancock sucked on the little tablet hard and had to throw the tin back to his bodyguard. He didn't trust himself not to pop a few more when she wasn't looking, if not purely out of habit more than any conscious decision. It had been maybe two weeks total, and he already looked back on the days of eating Mentats like candy with aching nostalgia.

“Cut it out with this nervous bullshit,” Fahrenheit said. “I literally heard Scout say 'I love you, John' when they slept next to you while you were sick. They held your puke bucket for you.”

“Doesn't mean anything,” Hancock muttered, turning back to analyze himself in the mirror. “They say I love you to all their friends.”

Fahrenheit let out a long frustrated groan that sounded eerily like an angry brahmin. “You people and your fucking romance. They tell you they love you. They kiss you on the face in public. They let you live in their house and tell you how much their dead husband would have liked you and ask you to help them find their son. They. Love. You. What fucking difference does it make if it's platonic or romantic?”

“I've tried to explain romantic love to you five different times now,” Hancock replied, fiddling with his tie again. “If I couldn't make it clear when I was high, I'm sure as fuck not going to explain it any better sober.”

“Are you worried about the sex?” Fahrenheit asked, not even pausing as she suddenly changed the subject. “Scout said they've only been sexually attracted to Nate, and that was after they fell in love with him.”

Hancock used the angle of the mirror to glare at her without turning around. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

She shrugged. “Hey, that sounds like it's based off of love and personality, not looks. Those are the two out of three that you've got, so quit fucking worrying about it.”

Hancock undid his tie and focused on figuring out how to tie it right so he wouldn't have to make eye contact with her. “What if Scout falls in love with someone tall and muscular and pretty and then they want to fuck him?”

Fahrenheit rolled her eyes. “Scout isn't going to fall in love with the trash can baby.”

“They compare Danse to Nate all the time.”

“Yeah, the parts of Nate they didn't like,” Fahrenheit scoffed. “Being too judgmental, blindly respecting authority, and kinkshaming.”

“Pretty sure they're joking about that last one.”

“Pretty sure they're not.”

Hancock gave an exasperated huff and admitted defeat to his tie. The suit he'd dug out of his closet fit perfectly, but he'd never bothered with ties before. Just his blatant disregard for authority and social norms surfacing there. Not much he could do about his lack—or lack of it—but he still wore the cap Scout knit him beneath his tricorn hat, and he always thought that gave him a dashing, roguish air.

“The whole town has a running bet on when Scout's going to marry you,” Fahrenheit remarked casually in the silence.

Hancock finally turned around to look at her. “Since when? And how do you know I won't be marrying Scout?”

Fahrenheit snorted. “Because I've bent you over your own desk and spanked you.”

“Kinks don't correlate to overall dominance in a relationship,” Hancock said. “And I seem to remember fucking you up against every wall and alleyway in this town. Remember the list?”

Fahrenheit tilted her head to the side and thought about it. “Did we ever check off the front gates?”

“Nah,” Hancock said with a wistful sigh. “We missed that one.”

“Then that's my wedding gift to you and Scout,” Fahrenheit said. “The one surface in Goodneighbor that you two can christen.”

“This isn't a date and we're not getting married,” Hancock replied, but he grinned when he said it. The Mentat and the banter had eased his shit mood, even if his nerves were still going strong.

“Right,” Fahrenheit said wryly. “Want me to get you your spare coat?”

Hancock glanced back at the mirror. He'd done all he could for himself.

“Sure.”

*******

Scout lounged on one of the many couches in the Old State House, not minding the way the Neighborhood Watch guards snuck quick glances at them. The Sole had done one hell of a job terrifying the poor guards the last time they were there, as word about how they starved a man for three days, then cut off his own leg and fed it to him quickly made its way around the small town. Despite the flashy nature and short length of the sparkly red dress they wore, none of the guards dared openly leer at them. If the Sole didn't have their balls for it, Hancock would. Scout was even wearing his coat tonight, a clear mark of ownership. Although, whether that showed he owned the Sole or they owned him was a matter of hot debate, argued only in the quietest of furtive whispers.

“Matt?” Scout called.

The ghoul ambled over, licking his nearly-gone lips nervously. “Yeah?”

“Could you go upstairs and ask how much longer—”

“No need for that, love,” Hancock announced, appearing at the top of the winding stairs. “I wouldn't keep a gorgeous thing like you waiting.”

Scout watched him come down the stairs, their eyes going wide. They hadn't expected him to have a backup coat, a long black leather duster that looked just as impressive as the coat currently sitting on their shoulders. Crap, it was totally unfair that he looked sexy in two coats. And was that a suit beneath it? The Sole stood when Hancock made it to the bottom of the stairs, and they didn't bothering trying to be subtle about the way their gaze swept him up and down. That was a suit beneath the duster, and the fitting drew attention to the narrow V of his slender hips.

Scout dragged their eyes back up to his face and grinned. “My, you clean up nice, Mister Mayor.”

“Lies and flattery, but with a mouth like yours, I suppose you can use it however you want.” Hancock said with a wink.

They gave a dramatic sigh. “And here I thought if I used it to talk you into giving me your coat, I could be the hot one tonight. But then you come down here looking like that, dashing my hopes.”

Hancock tried to play it cool, but that turned out to be a lot harder to do sober. “Well now you're just telling lies. I could put you up next to anyone in the Commonwealth and you'd still be the hot one.”

“And you're saying all the flattery,” Scout retorted, still smiling wide.

“I'm about to puke,” Fahrenheit said, coming down the stairs to join them. “Stop flirting and let's go already.”

“You know what, Fahr? Take the night off,” Hancock told her. “My Christmas gift to you.”

“Great. I hear the mayor's spotting everyone a free drink at the Third Rail. I think I'll head over there,” Fahrenheit said, completely deadpan. “Let's go.”

“Wait, who walks in the middle?” Scout asked. “Are we your two side studs or are you two mine?”

“Obviously, the two of you are my arm candy,” Hancock said.

Scout and Fahrenheit glanced at him, then very deliberately looked back at each other.

“Anyway,” Fahrenheit said.

“Does anyone here still respect that I'm the fucking mayor?” Hancock complained loudly.

“So he's feeling like himself again?” the Sole asked. “Doing good?”

“Same old pain in my ass,” Fahrenheit replied.

Hancock scoffed and walked away. Fuck those two if he was going to stand around listening to them talk about him like he wasn't even there. He wasn't invalid, he'd just been sick—going through withdrawals because of his own damn chem habit that had nearly destroyed everything, the weak link Danse said he was, the one most easily manipulated with a few bad Mentats and—

“If you two wanna talk shit, I'm gonna take a smoke break,” he called back as he left.

He didn't make it far before Scout caught him with a hand on his shoulder. Hancock let them turn him around easily. He'd promised himself he wouldn't get snappy at Scout just because he was struggling to stay sober, but then he couldn't handle a bit of banter he would've rolled with when he was high. Fuck, the last thing he wanted was to become that one guy who turned into an asshole when he got clean and everyone agreed they liked him better when he was high and no one wanted—

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don't worry, we're both on edge right now,” Scout said. “But hey.”

Hancock looked up at them, and Scout pointed at the doorframe above their heads. His eyes followed up further to see mistletoe dangling over the two of them. Scout reached out and cupped his cheek, angling his face down to look at them before surging forward to kiss him. The kiss was light, barely more than a two second press of their lips against his, but it felt like the high he'd been jonesing for.

“So are you going to pay for all my drinks?” Scout murmured when they drew back, grinning at him again. “Mister Mayor?”

“That'll get you one,” Hancock replied, voice even huskier than usual.

Scout drew back and gasped in mock offense. “Fahr, did you hear that? This is highway robbery!”

The bodyguard just rolled her eyes and herded them out the door. “Move your asses, you're both disgusting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a much longer chapter, yay! Also, I really wanted to have one of those "the female love interest dresses up nice for once and appears at the top of the stairs in all her beauty, and her date is so slack-jawed impressed" but in reverse, because Hancock is beautiful and deserves to be appreciated. It also just isn't a Christmas fic without at least one "we're not in love or anything but we just so happened to end up under this mistletoes, whoops guess now we ~have~ to kiss, I don't make the Christmas rules" fluffy kiss.
> 
> And yeah, I totally headcanon Fahrenheit as aromantic (and also as a transwoman, but I don't think that'll come up in this fic) who tries so hard to take care of her stupid-in-love babies but it's like herding cats.


	4. I Put a Spell on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout and Hancock go on a date, but it gets all fucked up when Magnolia kisses Hancock. This is why asking for consent is important, kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this chapter would be the song chapter, but it actually isn't, whoops! The next one really, really be the song chapter though and at least partly from Scout's POV to get their take on watching Hancock make out with Magnolia on their date.

The Third Rail was already crowded when the trio arrived, thanks to Hancock's earlier promise of free drinks. He damn sure hoped Charlie got the message that he'd only promised one round, not a whole night. But Scout seemed pleased with the turnout, so he figured it was worth whatever the bill turned out to be. Fahrenheit took the lead on pushing through the crowd because as much respect as he got for being one badass mayor, Fahr had a couple of inches and twenty pounds of muscle on him. Scout seemed content to stroll along behind her, stepping in close to his personal space to avoid the press of other people. Hancock threw his arm around their shoulders, a totally friendly and platonic gesture that wasn't possessive at all. That would be if he wrapped his arm around their waist, and since this absolutely was not a date, that wouldn't happen.

“Hey, Charlie,” Scout greeted, stepping up to the bar and out from under Hancock's arm. “You got any red wine?”

“We're out tonight,” the robot replied.

Scout closed their eyes and let out a tightly controlled exhale, then opened their eyes again. “OK. Do you have tequila and fruit?”

“Fruit?” Charlie echoed, an eye stalk swiveling to look at Hancock like he might have the answer.

“Yeah, any type of fruit,” Scout said. “That's how you could get drinks pre-war, with fruit and juice and sugar in them so you couldn't even taste the alcohol.”

Hancock leaned against the bar next to them, using the crowded room as an excuse to stay close enough that the side of his hip brushed theirs. “That how people drank back then?”

Scout shrugged, not moving away. “Mostly women, but also a few brave men who loved themselves too much to drink glorified gasoline just to look cool. Hey, I was serious about that karaoke by the way. Do you think Magnolia will let me have the mic for a bit?”

“That depends.” Hancock grinned at them. “Is this karaoke you want to perform family friendly? I run a respectable town, you know.”

Scout let their head tilt back as they laughed. “It's just singing songs, but instead of professionals like Mags, any drunk idiot can get up and embarrass themselves. Actually, I should drag the rest of the group down here. Deacon would love it, and I bet I could get Danse up there if I got him drunk enough. Mutual embarrassment might create that magical bonding moment between everyone and then he'll be nice.”

“It might also attract a deathclaw who wants nothing more than to be named Fluffy and taught how to roll over,” he replied.

Scout giggled at the thought, and Hancock spotted Charlie whirring his way over with the Sole's drink and his usual. He glanced around to check where Fahrenheit had went to and saw she'd already snagged herself a barstool and a glass of whiskey. He'd been thinking of asking her to clear out one of the backrooms so he and Scout could have some privacy on their absolutely-not-a-date, maybe share a meal together and a bottle of wine, but it looked like that plan had died before it even started.

“Your drink, Sole,” Charlie announced.

Scout looked down at their drink. “Corn isn't a fruit, Charlie.”

“Goodneighbor isn't exactly known for its nutritious dietary habits,” the robot replied. “This is the best I could do on such short notice.”

Scout gave a martyred sigh and started picking corn kernels out of their glass of tequila. Hancock downed his shot of whiskey in one go, tempted to let out his own sigh of frustration. If this absolutely-was-not-a-date before, it sure as shit was now that everything was going wrong.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered.

“No, don't worry.” Scout nudged his hip with theirs. “It's fine. We'll laugh about the corn one day.”

“This is my bar, and—”

They reached out to cup his cheek and gave him a reassuring smile. “There's nothing to apologize for. You're good. This night is going to be good.”

Hancock reply or look convinced.

“There's no one else I'd rather spend Christmas with,” Scout told him. “Um, well, except Shaun, but I don't think he counts in this particular context.”

Hancock swallowed and replied in a low voice, “There's no one else I'd rather be with either.”

A bit of color spread across Scout's cheeks and their smile sweetened. He could stare at them looking like this all night. Hell, he'd stare at them any time, but them being happy—their happiness directed at him—was his favorite to look at. They began leaning closer and Hancock followed that lead, hoping for a kiss without the excuse of a mistletoe, but then Scout's eyes focused on someone behind him.

“Hey, Mags!” Scout called, then shifted their attention back to him. “Just gimme a minute to convince her. Do you mind?”

Hancock shrugged like his heart wasn't pounding. “Nah, it's fine.”

“Great!”

They did lean forward those last few inches, but only to press a quick kiss to his cheek before bounding off through the crowd. Hancock was at least grateful he'd been too surprised to flinch. They'd been kissing him a lot lately—which didn't meant anything at all—but the cheek kisses always unnerved him the most. Although chapped and worn down, he did still mostly have lips, and he figured kissing those might not be too much of an adjustment for a smoothskin. But the actual skin of his face was pocked and leathery, and he couldn't imagine while Scout would voluntarily press such pretty lips against it.

Shit, now he was getting himself depressed and cranky again. Scout wanted to have a good time tonight, so he needed to cheer the fuck up … without the use of chems. Goddammit. The thought of getting to hear and watch Scout sing perked him up a bit though. Either they'd have a beautiful voice and he'd love listening to it, or they'd have an awful voice and he'd still love listening to it, plus teasing them about it. He almost hoped it would be the latter just for how cute and funny that would be, watching them eagerly howl their way through a song.

“So you got ditched for the mike, huh?” Magnolia sauntered over to Hancock and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Well I got kicked off the mike, so it looks like Scout fucked us both over.”

He grunted in reply and signaled Charlie for another shot. Alcohol wasn't a chem, so it didn't count.

“I don't suppose they'd like to ah,” Magnolia paused with a coy smile. “Fuck us both over?”

Hancock glanced back over, blinked like he'd just seen her, and shook his head. “Nah. They ain't into that.”

“Sharing or women?” she asked.

“We're not …” he trailed off and looked for Charlie almost desperately.

Fuck, had talking to women always been this difficult? The cravings over the last month had been bad, but tonight seemed worse than usual for some reason. Maybe it was because normally he'd already be fucked up by this point on a night out. Coming here, his usual haunt with all his usual temptations, might have been a really bad idea, just maybe. But Scout wanted to go out, and he couldn't deny them anything. Probably should have just warned them he was trying to get clean and coming here would be hard, but he wanted to wait longer before he said anything. Make sure he really could do it instead of getting their hopes up and then disappointing them when he caved and went back to his bad habits. Shit, he couldn't stand the thought of that happening.

“Mayor?”

Hancock snapped his attention back on Magnolia. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, you were saying?”

“I asked if you and Scout were together,” she said slowly.

“We're friends,” he replied in a voice that thankfully came out even. “Thanks for letting them steal the spotlight for the night.”

Magnolia considered him for a moment, then smiled. “Sure thing. I think they're almost set up. Wanna grab a seat somewhere?”

She held out her hand, and Hancock took it automatically. It'd be just bad manners if he left a nice lady hanging, especially one who had done a favor to his friend, so he escorted her back to that everyone generally recognized as his. He had a pretty good view of Scout adjusting the microphone stand on the stage to fit their height, and the view got even better when Fahrenheit came over and shooed aside most of the people in the way.

“Hey, Mayor Man.” Magnolia reached out and squeezed Hancock's arm to get his attention. “You handing out any Christmas goodies?”

She smiled and made a show of batting her eyelashes at him, and he grinned back before remembering that he actually didn't have anything to offer.

“Fuck, I'm sorry doll, I don't got any,” he said. “Uh … new coat.”

Magnolia looked surprised for a moment, but she recovered her smile quickly. “That's all right, I'm sure I can find some. You wait right here.”

Hancock nodded and absently fiddled with one of the buttons on his coat as she got up to leave. He doubted she'd be back. The citizens of Goodneighbor all loved him because he was generous, but on the downside, they all loved him because he was generous. Who the fuck was going to want to hang out with him now, when all he had to offer was his charming fucking personality? And honestly, that had gone to shit too ever since he got sober. Would it be too pathetic if he called Fahrenheit to come over and sit next to him? She would sometimes, so it wouldn't be too out of the ordinary. Then she could keep him from doing anything stupid too, because he was really feeling like doing something fucking stupid.

“Look what I got,” Magnolia announced, plopping back down on the couch next to him.

Hancock looked over and immediately wished he hadn't. It was one thing to stay sober keeping busy on the road or locking himself up alone in his room, but now that someone had a couple of inhalers up for grabs, it felt like his body was practically burning. He should really get Fahrenheit over here, like right now immediately, but he instead he sat frozen and watched as Magnolia lifted the Jet to her lips and inhaled, her eyes drifting shut in bliss. He must have made some sort of noise at that, because her eyes blinked back open at him. She smirked at him around the inhaler and tapped the wall behind the couch. He glanced up at it and saw the mistletoe a second before she grabbed the lapel of his spare coat and drug him down for a kiss.

And that's when everything shattered in his mind.

Hancock let out a low growl as she shotgunned the hit of Jet into his mouth, grabbing her thigh to yank her roughly into his lap. Her tongue rubbed against his in the open mouth kiss, but he barely even noticed as he greedily inhaled, the chem hitting him like a kick to the head after what seemed like an eternity of going without. Everything slowed down, and he felt himself finally, fucking finally, relax. The person kissing him moaned, and something about that felt wrong. Scout was the one who always kissed him, and their voice was much deeper than that.

Then the person was snatched off of him, and Fahrenheit's face filled his view.

"The fuck are you doing?” she hissed at him.

Hancock blinked back, the action feeling like it took forever. He suspected that he needed to apologize for something, but he couldn't remember what. His thoughts felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, the words sitting motionless in the back of his throat.

“C'mon.”

She grabbed him and pulled him to his feet, and it was all he could do to stumble after her as she practically dragged him … somewhere? His surroundings seemed to flash by and remain stuck at the same time, and Hancock distantly realized that this was going to be a baaad trip. The next thing he was aware of, he was being shoved down onto a different couch. Or maybe the same couch. Was he sitting down with that woman again? Maybe he was being forced to relive that mistake again and again. He wasn't exactly sure why it had been a mistake, but he got the feeling that it had definitely been a big one.

“Congratulations, asshole.” Fahrenheit's voice drifted down from somewhere above him. “You just fucked up your sobriety.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK yes, Fahr is pretty mean right now, but she's just frustrated. She'll work hard to get this mess fixed in the next chapter! 
> 
> And please let me know if you think I did a good job on writing Hancock and his addiction. I'm trying my best, but I've never even smoked a weed before, so I don't exactly have the life experience to back this up :/


	5. Because You're Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout learns that Hancock has been trying to get clean and Hancock learns that Scout's been dating him for a month now. These two dumb babies learn something new every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS is finally the song chapter, for the song prompt challenge. You can listen to the song that inspired this whole mess at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hvA0wWTIv4 and it's "I Put a Spell on You" by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

Scout couldn't remember what they'd planned to sing when they looked out at the audience and spotted Magnolia drag Hancock into a kiss. For a second, they thought their grip on the microphone was going to break it, but they forced themself to relax. Magnolia was a nice person and this was probably some sort of misunderstanding and Hancock would push her off of him any—

No, nope. He just pulled her into his lap and kissed her harder. Scout went back to adjusting the microphone stand on autopilot because they needed something to do with their hands that didn't involve breaking something or hitting someone. They knew this was a possibility. Hancock was charismatic and sexy and one of the nicest people on earth, in addition to being mayor, so of course he was going to get advances. And all Scout had given him over the past month was kisses and of course that wouldn't be enough and he would want more, but goddammit, they thought he would at least talk to them first not, not …

Scout looked up to see Fahrenheit dragging Hancock down the hall into one of the backrooms. Through the crowd, they were pretty sure they glimpsed Magnolia sprawled out on the floor. Good. At least Fahrenheit still had their back. But Scout wasn't going to go rushing back there like some sort of jealous housewife. Fahr would keep an eye on him, and the Sole wanted Hancock to stew for a while, to think about what he'd just fucking done.

“Change of plans,” Scout told Charlie. “Can play 'I Put a Spell on You' instead?”

“If that will get this over with,” the robot replied. “There'd better be tips from this.”

Scout didn't respond. It would have been different if he'd kissed someone from Sanctuary, someone that he might actually care about. Nick, Preston, Deacon … hell, if they'd walked in on him and Danse angry fucking, it still wouldn't hurt as bad as this.

The opening drums started, and Scout leaned into the microphone.

“I put a spell on you,” they sang. “Because you're mine …”

Scout knew Hancock didn't care about Magnolia beyond casual friendship and apparently, sexual attraction. He hadn't kissed her out of love, which maybe they could excuse. If he really loved someone else, how could they be mad at that? But yanking some woman he rarely spoke to into his lap and kissing her like that, a move like that could only be from sexual attraction.

And sex was the one thing Scout couldn't give him.

“I ain't gonna take none of your foolin' around …”

But screw him if he thought he could just cheat on them like that, and directly in front of them. On their date. On Christmas!

“I ain't gonna take none of your put me downs …”

If Hancock was feeling frustrated, all he had to do was talk to Scout about it, and the two of them would have worked it out. But instead of being a mature adult about it, he'd tried to hook up with the first woman who threw herself at him, and probably would have succeeded too if Fahrenheit hadn't stepped in. Was that what he needed? A full time babysitter to make sure he could keep his dick in his pants?

“I put a spell on you, because you're mine.”

Scout finished out the rest of the song with their heart pounding and their grip on the microphone almost hard enough to crack the plastic casing. They'd gotten up and sang like they wanted to, and it wouldn't cause a scene now if they casually strolled over to the backrooms. Scout was pissed, but they didn't want the whole club to have a front row seat to their drama with Hancock. Then again, if he was having trouble remembering who he belonged to, maybe they should bend him over the bar and remind him in front of everyone. Fahrenheit was leaning against the door to the backroom and didn't look surprised to see Scout making their way over.

“He's been trying to get clean and Magnolia shotgunned him a hit of Jet,” she said before they could say anything. “I should have watched him closer.”

Scout blinked and slowed to a stop, their anger starting to leak out of them. The news that Hancock was attempting to go sober was a hell of shock, and it also shook their assumptions about why he'd kissed her back. They nodded to Fahrenheit and took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. The Sole and the bodyguard stood quiet for almost a minute.

“All right, I'm good,” Scout said. “I'm just going to talk to him.”

Fahrenheit stepped aside, and they opened the door to the backroom, kicking it shut behind them as they walked in. Hancock lay alone on the middle couch, his left arm thrown across over his face and his hat on the floor. He didn't make any noise, but his breathing shuddered through him and Scout suspected that the sleeve of his coat was probably wet with tears at this point.

“Hey,” they said softly.

When that didn't get a response, Scout walked over and picked up his hat, setting it down on a small nearby table. Then they sat down next to him, leaning their back against the edge of the couch. They stared at the door they'd just walked through, Hancock's side brushing against their back with every sharp inhale and shuddery exhale he made. His right arm hung off the edge of the couch next to them, and after a moment of quiet, they carefully nudged his hand with their own. He grabbed their hand like a lifeline, and Scout squeezed his hand back, breathing in an exaggeratedly loud and slow manner to help him regulate his own breathing.

“You all right?” Scout asked when he'd calmed down a bit.

“Yeah,” Hancock's raspy voice replied. “Don't have to worry about snot anymore.”

“Well damn,” Scout said. “Sign me up to be a ghoul then.”

Hancock gave a wet laugh, and the two lapsed back into silence. Scout broke it first.

“How long have you been trying to get clean?” they asked.

“Fahr tell you about that?”

“Yeah.”

“About a month,” he answered.

Scout let their head drop back to rest on his side, turning their face to look up at him. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Hancock kept his eyes hidden with his right arm. “Just … didn't want to get your hopes up. Good thing I didn't.”

His voice cracked in the middle of the last sentence, and Scout squeezed his hand again, nuzzling their face against his ribs.

“It's all right,” they said.

He finally lifted his arm off of his face to glare at the ceiling. “I fucked up, Scout. A month of being sober, gone.”

“What? No! Hey.” Scout turned to kneel in front of him, even though he looked away at the back of the couch rather than face them. “That's not how sobriety works. I know—well, maybe people don't see this anymore, but in the movies, all it took for a character to get clean was to spend one night handcuffed to a toilet so they couldn't use any more, then they'd throw up and shake for a bit and be fine by morning. That's not what it is.”

Hancock still wouldn't look at them, but he hadn't let go of their hand, even through the position change. Scout hovered over him, not wanting to overwhelm him by invading his personal space before he was ready, but wanting to stay close so he knew they were there.

“Sobriety is slowly messing up less often,” they told him. “It's relapses and puking and the occasional suicide attempt, and it's awful.”

Hancock's eyes slid over to meet Scout's. It was hard to tell with him being a ghoul, but they thought the sockets around his looked puffy and a little bit redder than usual.

“That's real fucking encouraging, sunshine,” he said wryly.

Scout offered him a tentative smile. “I just want you to know that sobriety isn't this magical thing that suddenly happens all at once and then you're perfect forevermore. It's totally fine to have relapses, and sometimes they help you learn what your triggers are.”

Hancock nodded, but his gaze dropped down to Scout's stomach, focusing on the sparkles in their dress as he stayed silent. He still felt like he'd fucked up, and his head hurt like hell. Now that the time slow had worn off, the stress and anxiety and general self-loathing that the chems usually kept at bay was playing havoc with his mind.

“Nate had to put up with all kinds of my shit,” Scout continued. “Making promises I didn't intend to keep, lying to him, always having a stash hidden somewhere—I have no room to judge about not getting sober as quickly as I should have.”

“Why'd you quit?” Hancock asked in a voice even rougher than usual.

Scout gave a deep sigh and stared down at their hands. “Someone was talking to the cops and needed to be shut up, the usual mafia shit. I should've handled it myself, but I got high and told one of my moron underlings to take care of it. The narc ended up dead, yeah, but so did his two kids.”

Hancock winced. “Shit.”

“I showed up at Nate's place, a complete fucking mess,” they said. “I'd had a blow out fight with Ma, went and got high again, and probably would've done something to get myself killed if he hadn't taken me in. And this was after I'd promised him a hundred times I'd stop cheating and get clean and leave the family, and I'd broken those promises every single time. So in comparison, you really haven't done that bad.”

Hancock let out a small exhale through his nose-hole that might have been the ghost of a laugh and sat up so Scout could join him on the couch. They sat with their back against the couch and tugged him closer until he was practically sitting in their lap and they could press a kiss to his temple.

“My head hurts like a motherfucker,” he said after a long moment.

Scout laughed softly. “Mm-hmm.”

Hancock looked up at them. “We good?”

Scout hugged him a bit closer. “We're good.”

“Yeah?” If Hancock still had eyebrows he would have raised one. “I heard that song you sang. You were great, but you didn't sound too happy.”

They blushed and cleared their throat. “Uh, true. I may have gotten pretty jealous-mad, but I didn't break anything, including any of Mags' bones. I'd like a gold star on my 'has morals and empathy for other people' scorecard now.”

“You gotta be in a relationship to be jealous, gorgeous,” he said slowly.

“We … are?”

Hancock and Scout looked at each other for a silent beat.

“Bullshit,” Hancock said.

Scout glared at him. “Yes, we are. Who told you we weren't?”

If Magnolia had tried to feed him some crap about how Scout didn't really care and he needed a “real” woman or some—

“You never told me we were,” Hancock replied.

Scout's mouth dropped open with an indignant noise. “Yes, I did!”

The door opened before Hancock could say anything back, and Fahrenheit walked in, looking between the two sternly.

“Yeah?” Hancock asked her, sitting up on his own.

Fahrenheit shrugged. “If you two are fighting, I'm supervising. I am still your bodyguard, you know.”

Even though she was addressing Hancock, she cut her eyes over to Scout when she said that, making the implied threat very clear. Scout didn't even seem to notice.

“He says we're not in a relationship, Fahr!” they told her.

She stared at them for a moment, then said, “You aren't.”

Scout looked like she'd just kicked a puppy to death in front of them. “Yes, we … I told him I loved him and that he was mine, and he agreed.” They turned to Hancock for supplication. “John?”

“Was this when I was sick?” he asked.

“I mean … maybe,” Scout admitted. “But I also said I love you afterwards, when you woke up, before I fed Travis his leg, remember?”

“You say that to all your friends,” he muttered, not making eye contact.

“Oh my god!”

Scout gave Fahrenheit an are you hearing this shit look, but she just leaned back against the door with a smirk. It was finally time to watch her two dumb babies figure out their fucking shit.

“I've kissed you?” Scout said, half an accusation and half a question, like he might deny it. “Multiple times? On the mouth?”

Hancock avoided eye contact like a cat refusing to admit it should be ashamed.

“We are literally on a date right now,” the Sole continued in disbelief. “We both dressed up, I wore something far too sexual, you paid for my drink—this is a date. I even tried to serenade you!”

Hancock finally glanced back over at them, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “You tried to serenade me?”

“Well I don't know,” Scout snapped in exasperation. “It worked on me when Nate did it.”

Fahrenheit snorted, and they both turned to glare at her.

“This is a shitstorm,” she gleefully informed them.

“This is a private conversation,” Hancock retorted.

His bodyguard outright laughed at that—the thought that he might get some privacy from her—but she did leave the room again, now assured that no physical fighting was going to take place. Hancock looked back over at Scout, but they had their head dropped back against the couch and their eyes closed. He hadn't done many serious relationships before, and he didn't want to fuck up this one. Mostly he couldn't believe he hadn't fucked it up already by kissing someone else, getting high, and also not knowing it was a relationship at all.

Shit. So much for a fun not-a-date night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More kissing and fluff next chapter as Scout and Hancock both finally agree that they love each other! <3


	6. Disciplinary Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout and Hancock finally work their shit out!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder for those who may not have caught it / remembered this from other mentions I've done: Nate was an asexual trans man with pretty bad dysphoria. Scout is amab agender. Between the two of them, they had the requisite parts to have Shaun.

“I'm sorry,” Scout blurted out after Fahrenheit left the room. “I didn't mean to—I thought, but if you don't, then I—”

Hancock muttered fuck it under his breath and pulled them close enough that their face was millimeters from his. He didn't lean forward to close the gap, giving the Sole a chance to back out, but still making his intentions clear. Scout stared into his black eyes for a few seconds before they surged forward to kiss him. Hancock couldn't hold back a needy groan that came out almost as a growl from his roughened voice. Scout grabbed him by the thighs and pulled him into their lap, noting with triumphant pettiness that the action was the same as what the'd done with Magnolia. He pulled back first, uncertainty flickering across his weathered face.

“Are you sure—”

“Take this off,” Scout said at the same time, tugging at his spare coat, then paused when they took in what he said. “Well, did that answer your question?”

“Where's my coat?” Hancock asked instead of answering.

“Charlie's watching it,” they said. “Is that all right?”

“I'd better go check on—”

Hancock tried to pull away and stand up, but Scout kept their grip on him firm. They'd let go if he tried again—they didn't want to pressure him into anything—but it seemed like their biggest problem with him was a lack of communication.

“We don't have to do much if you don't want to,” Scout said. “I mean, I wasn't really offering—I just wanted to make out a bit because I'm a jealous little baby who can't handle that your mouth tastes like someone else right now.”

“My mug ain't exactly worth getting jealous over, sunshine,” Hancock replied.

Scout cupped both sides of his face and pulled him down for a kiss, running their tongue over his worn bottom lip. Hancock immediately opened his mouth and deepened the kiss. He might not have much by way of lips, but his tongue was still the same as a smoothskin's, and he knew he was damn talented with it. But Scout broke the kiss after the first brush of his tongue against theirs, and he had to tamp down on a disappointed whine.

“That was a disciplinary kiss,” Scout announced. “And the next time you say something bad about your looks, I'll hold you down and kiss your whole face until you love yourself as much as I do.”

Hancock didn't have enough skin left to blush, but he knew he would have if he could. “C'mon. You don't really want to wake up to a face like this every morning. Wouldn't wish that on anyone I—”

Scout flipped him over onto his back, sprawled out on the length of the couch with them hovering over him. They leaned down and peppered his face with kisses, holding him down by the shoulders to keep him still. Hancock tried to resist the urge to push them off of him but he was in too much shock to make a real effort anyway. Scout's kisses dropped down on his forehead, his cheeks, his chin—one came dangerously close to his nose hole and he flinched away. He'd never been kissed like this before. He had plenty of one night stands as a human, but he'd still been a fucked up chem-head most likely to be found shooting up in a warehouse or passed out in a gutter, not the type of guy who got movie moment kisses. And now, people either avoided kissing him entirely or they were “into” ghouls, and his face wasn't the head they were eager to get their hands on.

“Don't have to do this,” Hancock mumbled.

Scout responded by kissing him on the lips, then using their nose to nudge his head to the side so they had access to his jaw and neck. Hancock squeezed his eyes shut and tried hard to keep his breathing even. He wasn't going to start crying again. Fuck fuck fuck. He wasn't. He pushed Scout back a little, and they paused in their assault.

“Want to be on top,” he said in a scratchy voice.

It took some maneuvering to get their positions revered without either of them falling off the couch, but once the two got it worked out, Hancock lay on top of Scout with his head resting on their chest. Any other time, he would have been tempted to nuzzle against the Sole's breasts, but this time he just laid there and focused on his breathing. Scout rubbed over his scalp with the hand not resting on the small of his back. The soothing touch felt like a massage and did wonders for easing his headache. He clung to them a little too tightly, needing the reassurance that they were there and this was happening. He'd cuddled with them before—he tended to get handsy when he was high, in a more touchy than a sexual way—but not to this extent when he was (mostly) sober, the previous hit of Jet notwithstanding.

Flirting was the same. Fun and easy while high, to be avoided at all costs when sober. The Mentats smoothed over his anxiety and the Jet slowed everything down so he could think about and formulate his responses during conversations without pausing for three minutes like an idiot. And the only relationship experience he had—high or sober—was whatever it was he had with Fahrenheit, which was admittedly a lot of things, but romantic wasn't one of them.

“Are you thinking bad thoughts again?” Scout asked him softly.

“Maybe,” he replied. “You gonna kiss me if I am?”

Scout gave a playful sigh. “I should have known you'd start exploiting the system.”

“Down with the, uh …” Hancock caught himself before he said man. “… person?”

Scout giggled at his attempted save and lightly scratched over his head with their nails, making him shiver. He tried so hard to be respectful of their pronouns that they didn't mind the occasional near slip up, especially when he immediately corrected himself.

"Are there things I get to kiss you for?” he asked, changing the subject.

“You can kiss me for anything,” Scout said with an insistent seriousness.

Hancock propped himself up on one elbow to look down at them. “This really what you want?”

“You're everything I want,” Scout answered.

“Heh.” Hancock cracked a self-deprecating smile even as his heart flipped inside his chest. “Moments like this, I know all that karma stuff is bull. Because no one like me should be this lucky.”

“You're a good person, John.” Scout's brow furrowed into what Hancock thought was a cute little pout. “You've done so much good for this town and you always want to help people. I'm the lucky one.”

Hancock leaned down and kissed his Sole before they could say anything else. The kiss deepened almost immediately, but it stayed slow and unhurried, even as he licked his way into Scout's mouth. When they let out a soft groan, he broke the kiss and smirked down at them.

“That was a disciplinary kiss,” he said.

Scout scoffed. “For what? Saying I”m lucky to have you?”

“For talking about yourself like you're less than me,” he replied.

“You do that all the time,” Scout said, then grinned. “Let's settle this fight with our mouths.”

Hancock's own smirk widened. “Why? Are you still jealous?”

“And mad.”

Well, shit. His smile fell off his face like a BoS Knight in full power armor off the side of the Prydwen. Scout's eyes widened, and they rushed to reassure him.

“Not at you,” they said. “I'm still pissed at Magnolia. She kissed you without your permission and practically forced the Jet into your mouth.”

“She didn't make me inhale it,” Hancock muttered. “And I've always been down for that sort of thing before, so she—”

“Still should have asked your permission first,” Scout finished in a hard voice. “Consent isn't something that can be assumed because someone has done something before. You ask me every time if I'm sure before you give me Med-X to help me sleep. You don't just shove it into my arm without any warning.”

“I didn't know she was going to shotgun it to me, but I damn well knew what she had and that I should've called Fahr over,” he insisted. “And I didn't—”

Scout pulled him down for another kiss, a hard one that clacked their teeth into his. Their tongue swept into his mouth as they dominated the kiss before abruptly pulling back.

“Stop victim-blaming yourself,” they told him. “You know you would've shanked anyone who did something like that to me.”

Hancock's expression darkened and he couldn't hold back a low growl at the thought. Scout's stomach clenched in response.

They knew they really shouldn't find his violent tendencies attractive—God, Nate would disapprove so hard—but there was no helping it. The Sole's only consolation was that the attraction hadn't started until months after they first met him, so it wasn't just that they got off on the violence alone. They liked it when Hancock specifically got violent. On the other hand, since the attraction took so long to develop, the good mayor stabbing Finn had been completely wasted on them. What a shame. They'd really appreciate that kind of front row seat now.

“Scout?"”

They blinked and refocused on Hancock looking down on them. 

“Sorry,” Scout said with a smile. “I got distracted thinking about that.”

Hancock shifted on top of them so that his thigh brushed against Scout's semi-erection. “Yeah? Is that what we're calling this?”

Scout shrugged, not embarrassed to be caught. “That's started happening a lot around you lately. It's kind of weird. Preston had to teach me boner control.”

Hancock laughed, picturing the poor Minuteman's blushing face. “You asked Preston-actually-a-saint-Garvey to teach you how to calm your dick?”

“He's pure. He doesn't sin,” Scout defended themself. “I bet he's never popped an inappropriate stiffy in his life. And uh, it's been a while since the last time I had sex.”

“Two hundred years is plenty of time to fall out of practice,” Hancock replied easily. 

Of course he would give his Sole a way out. Kissing him was one thing—and he could barely believe they were so willing to do that—but sex with a ghoul was an entirely new tier of going the distance for love. He was happy with just being in a relationship in them, which, apparently, he was. 

“Longer than that,” Scout admitted, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Nate had a lot of body issues. He could barely stand to have sex with me to have Shaun.”

Hancock frowned. “But you ended up wanting him, right?”

“I didn't get aroused just like, watching him do daily shit or change clothes or something,” Scout said. “I was only down with it if he was, and since he rarely wanted to have sex, it was usually a moot point. And back in the mafia, I always got too high to remember. Only way I could do it.”

“You don't wanna do something, we don't,” Hancock said firmly. “I've run out on a lotta things in my life, but I'm not gonna run out on you.”

Scout grinned up at him. “What I want to do is make out with you.”

“Heh.” Hancock chuckled back at them. “I always knew you were only in this for my hot body. And here I was trying to date you all proper.”

Scout laughed. “You didn't even know we were dating!”

“Yeah, but I was trying to,” he said. “I was gonna get you some wine, have a meal back here, just the two of us, some real romantic shit.”

They lit up at the idea. “I bet Daisy's still got some good stuff in her 'Is It Food or Not' section.”

“Think she'll set us up?” Hancock asked. 

“If we tell her it's a date, she will,” Scout said. “Hell, she'll probably marry us on the spot. Did you know the whole town has a running bet on that?” 

“Did you?”

“Yeah,” Scout said with a pouty sigh. “Irma said I wasn't allowed to get in on it because I have insider knowledge, and Fahrenheit said I'm not allowed to know what date Ma bet on because then I'll choose any other date out of spite. Which is true, but still. Rude.”

“Let's go over to Daisy's then,” Hancock said. “Just the two of us. No chems, no mistletoe.”

“And after?” Scout asked. “Are you going to share that big king-sized bed?”

Hancock stared down at his Sole, not quite able to fully believe this was happening. That the next morning, he was going to wake up and they would be there, probably drooling on his pillow, and their gorgeous face would be the first thing he saw. That his face would be the first thing they saw, and they really were all right with that.

“My town is your town,” he said softly. “My bed too. And my coat, apparently. Anything you want, sunshine.”

Scout blushed and smiled back up at him. “Getting you has been a good start.” Their smile turned more mischievous. “But watch yourself, because I'm coming for your hat next!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You're a good person, John."
> 
> That's all I want to be able to say to Hancock, why can't I tell him that, he doesn't /know/ @Bethesda, why can't I tell my husband I love him and he's a good person why can't I kiss him where is the wedding DLC AHHHHHHHH!!
> 
> Do you know that comic where there's a floating skull with a party hat on and it gets really angry and has to fly into the temper tantrum hole to scream? That's how I feel about this.
> 
> Anyway, that's it for this fic in the series, but I made a couple of references to things that happen in other drabbles I haven't even had time to post, so there's definitely going to be more coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry the ending is a little abrupt, by the way. This scene got really long, so I cut it roughly in half. The next chapter will be up soon though, so don't worry!


End file.
